


A Big Bundle of Wibbly Wobbly, Timey-Wimey Joy

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Babies, Diapers, Fluff and Humor, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 16:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Doctor turns into a baby, and Donna his "Noble" servant.





	A Big Bundle of Wibbly Wobbly, Timey-Wimey Joy

Donna walked slowly down the corridor in the direction of the quiet whine, clearly originating from her Spaceman. She opened the Doctor’s bedroom door and was faced with a small lump, snoring under a blanket. Donna instantly decided the Doctor was  _ too _ skinny, as he seemed way too small huddled up like that. 

“Doctor?” she got his attention, pulling away the blanket. But, underneath was not the Doctor. At least, not the Doctor she knew. In his place was a baby. He had the same auburn eyes, and a small patch of brown hair sticking up. The baby Doctor spotted Donna and sat up excitedly, with his small grabby hands in his lap. 

“Donna!” he exclaimed. His mouth showed a small number of teeth. 

“That’s right, that’s my name. Oh, Doctor, what’d you do this time?!” Donna replied, mildly frustrated that the Doctor had de-aged himself. 

While she held the half a meter tall Oncoming Storm by the waist, the Doctor tried to pull down his now oversized PJ trousers. Donna noticed they were quite wet and smelly. She tugged them off with one hand and hugged the Doctor. 

“Aw, that’s alright, sweetie. You’re a baby now, that’s to be expected,” she reassured him, carrying him into the bathroom. 

The Doctor just stared quizzically at Donna as she undressed him, and began dabbing his privates with a soapy flannel. 

Once Baby Doctor was dry, Donna found a nappy in a cupboard and put it on him. As soon as she did this, the Doctor wriggled free, and ran off with the full speed of his toddler legs. 

Donna rolled her eyes at herself. “Bloody hell! Rule 1 of babysitting: check if they can walk!” 

Taking a few leaps down the corridor, Donna was in front of the wibbly wobbly Time Tot formerly known as the Doctor. She lifted him up, and put him on her shoulder, hoping to entertain him on the way back to his room. 

In the clothes cupboard, just like before, Donna found what she needed; baby clothes. The Doctor’s grabbing helped her pick out a starry blue onesie, which the tiny Time Lord wiggled himself quickly into. 

After some failed attempts at combing the Doctor’s hair flat, with a wet comb, Donna managed to get him to follow her slowly down the hall for breakfast.

* * *

“Now then, what do you feed a bitey Time Tot?” Donna asked herself. 

“Hey! Me no bite!” The Doctor protested indignantly, from his high chair. 

“Those aren’t legos, Space..baby!” Donna countered, pointing at his teeth.

She settled on cooking him some toast. She picked up some soft bread, mixed it with water, cinnamon and sugar, and turned it into discs, putting them on a frying pan. 

After a few minutes, the Doctor grew impatient. He climbed down and hopped towards the hot plate, pointing a finger and making a sonic buzzing noise with his tongue between his teeth. Donna gently slapped them away, and kneeled down to correct his behaviour. 

“Oi! That’s a finger, not your sonic screwdriver, understand?” she pointed at his finger and showed how she could bend it. The Doctor wacked his hand around to check, and found that he couldn’t make it light up. He nodded with disappointment.

“You already lost a hand once, you want to lose a finger?” Donna warned, carrying him back to his seat, and moving the chair closer to the table. 

“No!” the Doctor agreed with a scared expression. Donna kissed him on the cheek motherly. 

Donna put a piece of cinnamon bread in the Doctor’s grabby hands. 

  
“I want you to chew properly,” she instructed strictly. The Doctor obliged, smiling brightly. 

“nummy num num!” he complimented her. Donna couldn’t resist stroking his puffy locks at the praise. 

Thanks to the TARDIS, Donna found a crib with a starry baby mobile, which still fit the grown baby Doctor. Whether it was because of the bad dream he presumably had during the night, or the big breakfast, the Doctor fell asleep quickly, hugging an Ood plushie. Donna took a few pictures of the little tyke, napping so innocently..

* * *

Donna was watching EastEnders in the living room when the baby Doctor wailed through the ship. She ran to his aid, and found him curled up with his stuffed animal underneath him. 

“What’s wrong, little guy?” Donna cooed at the poor infant in the crib. 

“Tummy hurt-y” he informed her with a whine. 

Donna rolled the baby over onto his back, and massaged his “tummy”, guessing he was just gassy. At the same time, the Doctor stretched instinctively and felt a lump at the lowest part of his abdomen. All babies know the correct position to poop, so the Doctor tilted himself a centimetre to the right, lifted his legs, and made a face. 

“Oh. That.” Donna noted in surprised recognition. An intense stench filled the room. 

“Well, there’s your breakfast over and done with,” Donna joked, picking up her friend, and feeling his now _ very full _ nappy. Putting him on the changing table, Donna unbuttoned his onesie, tickling his tummy playfully, making him giggle even more than he already was. 

“Yeah, I’m sure this is hilarious to  _ you _ , having Donna clean up your poo,” she smiled mischievously, opening the nappy, revealing something very alien indeed. As small as the Doctor was, his stomach didn’t appear to have shrunk very much, going by the size of the pile of multicoloured poo neatly arranged on top of the padded cotton. 

The Doctor wriggled a bit as he was lathered in cold lotion around his buttocks. He also seemed to have remembered the previously humiliating implications of having his bits “invaded”, as he kept trying to bat Donna’s large hands away. Once he was dressed, however, the Doctor was once again docile. 

* * *

Donna grabbed some small cartons of yoghurt, and sat herself down on the couch with the Doctor beside her, wiggling his legs on the sofa cushion. While his little eyes rolled at the sight of humanity’s media trifles, Donna’s mind strayed to the likely consequences of feeding dairy to a one-year-old. She shrugged dismissively, accepting the outcome. 

***************************************

After one more diaper change, this time with contributions from both ends, Donna put the Doctor to bed, deciding to go to sleep as well, giving the TARDIS an incentive to keep the Doctor asleep for long enough to reverse the process. She had managed to fix the loose connection between the Chameleon Arch and Chameleon Circuit which had caused this. Luckily it was as easy as typing a quarterly report of expenses at H.C. Clements. 

* * *

The Doctor woke up, rubbed his eyes and stepped into the bathroom. His bladder was, predictably, bothering him and he expected his stomach to want  _ a word in _ as well. While relieving himself, the Doctor wondered why there was a faint smell of baby powder on his clothes. 

The Doctor switched from standing above the toilet, to sitting  _ on it _ , expecting to defecate. But after the first push, he felt his muscles bounce back, like there was nothing there. He felt his stomach with confusion. There was no longer any doubt. He was empty. Sneaking a glance in his pants, the worst-case scenario was debunked as well. He shrugged and pulled his trousers back up. It was then, that some residual baby powder rubbed onto his thumb. So, it appeared that baby powder had been applied to his buttocks. 

He resigned to the only option he could think of: asking Donna. 

He knocked cautiously on her door. But she wasn’t there. He walked along the corridors of the TARDIS until he heard the sound of a hairdryer. He yelled “Donna!” at the door in front of him. Donna stepped out, her hair wet from an apparent shower. 

“Doctor! You’re back to normal, thank god! Or, Rassilon, or whoever Time Lords pray to,” she greeted her Space **man** . 

“We don’t really pray to anyone. What do you mean ‘back to normal’?” the Doctor queried. 

“ _ Depends _ . What were you about to ask me?” Donna asked knowingly, giggling at her little joke. 

“Right. Potentially insane question: I didn’t poop in my sleep, did I?” he asked awkwardly. 

“Thankfully no,” Donna answered, signalling for the Doctor to follow her. 

Once they were sat in the living room, like the previous night, Donna took out her mobile phone, and showed the Doctor a picture. 

“I took this right before your kip,” she presented. 

“Why was there a baby in the..” the Doctor stopped halfway, as he realized the wording she had used.  _ His _ kip..

“I turned into a baby?!!” he yelped. Donna nodded in confirmation. 

“So, the baby powder..” the Doctor swallowed as it dawned on him. He went full red in the face in embarrassment. 

  
“..is from you.. _ changing _ me,” he finished the sentence quietly. 

Donna chuckled and nodded once more. The Doctor closed his eyes in horror, trying to hide his head in his coat, like a turtle.

“If it makes you feel better, you have a very healthy digestive system,” Donna complimented, bringing up a second photo on her phone screen. 

“It doesn’t,” the Doctor said stiffly, turning on the tv. 

His head turned as he spotted the phone next to him, revealing a photo from the first diaper change. His eyes widened, and his right hand twitched turning grabby once again, before waving in the air, gently pushing the phone down, out of his sight. 

They both enjoyed the morning news and weather forecast, whilst the Doctor shuddered despite the tv not mentioning any snow…

The End.


End file.
